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Coming-of-age movies, part II. Last week I focused on three different American versions. This week I turn my attention to the arrival of two international films, both of which open this Friday at the Landmark Theater in Chicago.

"The Holy Girl" is certainly the better of the two. It centers on a 16-year-old girl named Amalia (played with exquisite grace by newcomer Maria Alche). She lives in an Argentinean hotel with her divorced mother and beloved uncle, who own and run the establishment. Like many adolescents, Amalia is caught between two great unknowns--her own burgeoning sexuality and her questioning spirituality. Unlike many of her friends, Amalia is devoted to her female choir teacher, who's also her spiritual mentor. The movie opens with the teacher singing a beautiful a cappella song with the refrain, "What is it, Lord, you expect of me?," a question Amalia takes to heart. But the teenager is also deeply interested in the opposite sex and wonders when she will find a boyfriend, like her best friend Josefina already has. And when Amalia does, what will she do with him?

Her life takes a strange turn when a medical convention takes place at the hotel and a middle-aged doctor makes a clumsy sexual pass at her. Both thrilled and repulsed by the attention, Amalia abruptly decides that her vocation in life is to save this doctor, and so she begins to follow him around the hotel. But is her interest in him completely chaste? One of the really nice things about The Holy Girl is how director Lucrecia Martel (La Cienaga) portrays the close relationship between spirituality and sexuality, especially in teenagers. Amalia's conflation of her sexual arousal with her spiritual yearning is perfectly realized in Alche's convincing performance.

Martel also uses the hotel environs to strong effect. The cramped quarters (hotel workers and guests are always bumping into each other) and hot-house atmosphere mirror Amalia's own emotional state. And veteran cinematographer Felix Monti crops his images, especially people's faces, in provocative ways. At times, we only see one of Amalia's eyes and ears as she eavesdrops on the doctor's conversations, making for a compelling metaphor.

Still, the film is frustrating. To Martel's credit, she introduces a number of interesting characters and narrative threads (the mother's relationship with her hotel workers is especially fascinating), but then she doesn't develop them as much as she needs to. I realize there isn't time for everything, but a more focused storyline (or a longer film) would've been more satisfying. Still, the acting is strong across the board, and the final long shot is beautifully enigmatic and deceptively peaceful.   three 1/2, out of five

The same cannot be said for Paul Pavlikovsky's British My Summer of Love.  It's a much more conventional coming-of-age tale, this time with the added spice of lesbian sex, though those going just for that reason will be disappointed with the rather tame displays. Mona (a fiery performance from Nathalie Press) is a young, lower-class woman who lives with her brother. He's become "born again" after a spell in prison, but Mona has no interest in his growing faith. Instead she travels around lugging her motorless mo-ped. One day she meets the alluring Tamsin (Emily Blunt), whose parents are filthy rich but also largely absent. Coming from such different circumstances, the two find each other exotic, and soon they're pal-ing around the English countryside and discussing Nietzsche and clothes.

Unlike The Holy Girl, this film doesn't actually have any interest in the girls' philosophical or spiritual development; the various conversations are merely there to mark the growing relationship. Fortunately, the performances are good, with both young women projecting that adolescent combination of insecurity and arrogance. But after a while I grew tired of their self-absorption, and I say this as someone who really likes teenagers and has worked with them for over fifteen years. Furthermore, while brother Phil (Paddy Considine, who's compelling in this otherwise thankless role) is initially portrayed as a genuine believer, by the end of the movie he's been exposed as a fraud (Tamsin seduces him, of course). And then there's the inevitable breakup between the girls (we know from the title that things aren't lasting long once summer ends). All of this is way too banal and cliched, and I'm shocked that most of my fellow critics have embraced the film's cliches as something radical and interesting. Were they fooled by the British accents? And don't get me started on the movie's final shot of Mona striding confidently into the sunset (the hoariest cliche in the book). I suspect we're supposed to feel some sort of triumph in all this--she's matured and apparently become her own person--but it struck me as hollow and naive.  two stars, out of five

So another week of coming-of-age stories comes and goes, and I'm still recommending Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. The Holy Girl is certainly a richer and deeper film, but the Pants is a more satisfying and entertaining one.

J. Robert Parks